Dreams of an Asp
by Thyme In Her Eyes
Summary: Why did Anck-Su-Namun abandon Imhotep? She speaks, in order to give all the answers there are to give.


Dreams of an Asp  
  
Author's Note: This is my first fanfic based on 'The Mummy'/'The Mummy Returns', so please be gentle because my skin needs a little more time to thicken. This is set around the end of 'The Mummy Returns' just before Meela/Anck-su-namun abandons Imhotep. Just thought I should point out that it made me so mad how a three thousand year-old love could get screwed over like that and how Anck's character suddenly made a 180-degree turn - in the first movie, she's so brave and selfless! Anyway, enough about my bias. This is just a fanfic written in her perspective, as an explanation of her past, her feelings for Imhotep and a possible answer to what she was thinking and her reasons for running away. Enjoy and please review.  
  
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DREAMS OF AN ASP  
  
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I speak. I am unsure why I choose to do so as my tale will reach its conclusion very shortly. I can only hope that the ending is one of happiness; one that can grant my love and I some shred of absolution. Perhaps I speak because I am afraid he will not understand my actions and that inside I am longing for someone - anyone - to understand. I do not seek sympathy, I only want understanding. I do not want to feel alone an unsure at the end.  
  
How shall I present my tale? What shall my words be? I have very little time, therefore I must choose my words carefully. Shall I begin at the beginning, three thousand years past?  
  
No. To do so, I would be doing my past too much of an honour, I would be bestowing an undeserved honour upon Seti himself to begin at the time of his reign. It is that which ruined me - listen to me and try to find any trace of my once fiery spirit. No, all that is left of me now is bitterness, loss, regret and sorrow. And I wish to end it. All of it.  
  
I shall present this very moment to you, my listener. Imhotep, my only love, has rejected my pleads to abandon this quest for the world, my offer of a life as mortal lovers rather than risk becoming rulers of the waking world. He has left me to do battle. I fear for him. I love him so. My stomach knots and twists brutally in anxiety and my innards kick and my heart strikes out with the desire to run to him, to pull him away from danger, to intervene in the matters of the gods. I have battled Neferiti- reborn and now we both wait and see. Blessedly, I have been given time to think. I have thought too much, I have seen too deeply into my situation and now I am torn.  
  
I should begin by telling you the themes of my story. Yes, it is as good a place as any to start. This tale - be it tragic or not - is one full of the shrouding depths of the past and the cold cruelty of poison. The past and poison. There is love interwoven in the blend somewhere, that is the irony of it all, that amidst all the evil, there is a greater, triumphant purity that is fading fast. These themes dance, tangle and battle into a venomous patchwork of images of forgotten truths. Dreams of an asp.  
  
They say the past has a way of catching up with you, no matter how far you run, no matter how much you seek to escape and evade it, one day the consequences will catch you and it will all be over. This I believe to be true. To certain degrees. But how can the past catch up with you when it never leaves you in the first place?  
  
To me, when the past is against you, it can be like a deadly serpent. I know plenty about serpents. It can coil around your heart and slither through the depths of your soul. It can fill you with poison and infect your future with the power and potency of its bitter venom. It stays housed within you, ever hungry, occasionally shedding its skin and leaving behind papery remains. It lurks, hissing in dark corners ready to strike if approached, ready to bite and rob you of your life.  
  
I should not worry about death, as it is only the beginning. I have robbed someone of his life and I have been robbed of life myself, by my own hand. And I was perfectly willing. Death should strike no fear within my thundering heart. I was brave once. I was brave and determined as well as being perfectly selfless and utterly selfish at once. I should house no more fear of the blackness that lurks beyond the dusk of our lives.  
  
But an asp can bite deep and poison can come in many forms. It is a subtle concoction but it is also quick and effective in its attacks. Poison can be a young woman who has lived two lifetimes accumulating hatred instead of learning to let it go. Poison can be that moment when ambition becomes more vital to your life than love. Poison is when soulmates become little more than a sad pair, with a love full of regrets, disgust and anger.  
  
This kind of poison is an enigmatic thing - the bite of the asp will penetrate straight to the vein, yet there is very little pain. Anyone could easily suffer its bite and not realise until it is far too late. I understand that. Of course, it will be too late to safe yourself very quickly, as its venom is strong and efficient and a perfect weapon. It attacks the blood and the heart. I have felt that attack; I bear its wounds and bruises.  
  
First comes light-headedness. I felt that in those first few days following my successful revival but mistook it for bliss - bliss at being alive, bliss at being with my beloved, bliss at being complete in heart and soul and bliss at having an opportunity to have all that was denied us three thousand years ago. But poison is treacherous. I of all people should have known that. But still, the delirium of the light-headedness fooled me. Perhaps had I opened my eyes then and seen what was true instead of what I wished to be true, had I been willing to risk my present happiness for my future peace, things may have been different. Perhaps I could have been saved. But it was too late far too soon, as the venom within my soul began to act quickly.  
  
After the light-headedness comes weariness. That is what I feel now. I am weary of the world, I am weary of life, I am weary of unhappiness and I am weary of deceit. Deceit: the thing I used as a poison against my enemies once has now proven to be a double-edged blade. And it makes me so very tired; to think that despite so much change and growth in the world, in truth, very little has changed in human souls. I am tired. Next, I know, comes death. I would gladly accept it. I have no ambitions grander than that.  
  
Is this a surprise to your ears? To know that to simply put an end to this cycle is all I now desire? Would it shock you further if I were to reveal that once, long ago, I had no ambition at all?  
  
I see that look. I know it well. You disbelieve me, as you would laugh had you the courage. I am unsure if I know courage - some would think the final of my life fickle, disloyal and cowardly, however, it takes a great strength of will to do some things. I believe there is some element of bravery in that, in doing something you know to be wrong. It is very difficult to do something you know to be wrong, no matter how much you may enjoy it. I will tell you something else - it is even more difficult to do something to know to be right.  
  
I am becoming incoherent. I jump ahead of myself, I tell you of things, which you are not yet ready to learn. I apologise. I blame the venom coursing through me; it numbs the mind. I am lucky to realise what I must do - he has not, yet and likely never will in this lifetime. If I do not my own secret poisons kill this body; it may well erode my heart until there is nothing left.  
  
Ambition. Once there was a time when I was young, a young concubine, revered but not very much so. Back then, my sole ambition was to succeed in bribing Seti's cupbearer to keeping Pharaoh's goblet full, in the hopes that with drink-addled senses, he would not summon me to his chamber that night. My only hope was that I would not be needed too often. After all, it was I could hope for, in truth.  
  
Many of the others were radically different. Naturally, the harem was a miniature kingdom of power-struggles and silent wars between concubines. Many considered it an honour to be the chosen women of Seti, a god upon this earth. That I never understood.  
  
Many craved favour and all the luxuries and the security that came with it. I could understand that, at least and soon I would learn through the poison of events, to relate to it. Later in my life, that slow venom of ambition, would infect me also, and consume me. At first, I wanted nothing of Seti's attentions. Of course, I never truly wanted his attentions, not even later in my life - I only wanted the rewards such favour boasted. A thousand little misadventures, tiny betrayals and miniature grievances gave me the illusion that happiness could only be found in material possessions, that I could be safe and happy if I won prestige, status and power over others. And so I strived to become the Favoured One. And I succeeded.  
  
To rule the heart of the King of the Two Suns. Yes, that was power. It was an addiction as poisonous as the chilled bite of any serpent. It began killing me from the inside, attacking my soul before killing my flesh. I was doomed from the beginning, though I refused to see it, I refused to believe that I was becoming a walking ruin of a human being. I was miserable and bitter and so filled with bright, furious hate. It would take a priest to heal me, to reverse the damage done to my heart and hopes.  
  
Other concubines had an ambition of gaining sexual freedom. They had my scorn - I believed they spent too much time watching the daughters of Seti; young women allowed the liberty of having any lovers they wished for. I thought it gave these concubines foolish ideas and romantic fancies. It did little to stop them, it was well-known within our harem that a law against touching another man was only a threat to their lives if they were discovered.  
  
Most women that carried out such deadly liaisons when they had fallen out of favour for a long period of time and wanted something to scratch that itch. I thought them foolish. Others were demanded by Seti regularly enough but simply wanted the attentions of a man they desired. I thought them even more foolish. I witnessed many women carry out a discreet affair with some paramour - usually a servant or a Med-Jai warrior. Some of these affairs died down quietly and all went back to how it was, at other times, it ended in tears for a few less-than-careful pairs. I should know.  
  
I recall wondering if there was ever a greater example of stupidity. I could scarcely believe these women could risk their very lives simply to gratify their bodies. To me, my life was all I had and I could never understand how anyone could risk their lives - the most important thing! - for the sake of their bodies. I was baffled. It disgusted me once, to think myself considered to be on the same level as them.  
  
Imhotep was different. What he and I shared was more than anything Seti and his precious whores could ever dream of. What he and I shared was a love, a union of souls. It was a connection of the heart that bound us together. I lived and died by the look on his face. We both had our sorrows but together, we managed to ease and take away those old wounds and renew our spirits. It began with such small things, tender and indescribable possibilities and grew into something passionate and unshakeable. I was happier in my time with him - all those secret meetings, hushed conversations and stolen moments - than I have ever been in my entire life. I had never felt loved before and had never felt love for anyone, yet I loved him with all my heart. I still do.  
  
Like all things that are wonderful in this world, it ended all too soon. We were discovered together and there was little else we could do but strike out to defend one another. I would kill a thousand more gods upon the earth for his sake. I will not lie and say I regret it or murdered Seti with a heavy heart - unfortunately, I believe that to be more my beloved's burden than my own.  
  
As for the murder, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed pushing all my anger and flaring fury that had once been so helpless, out of me. It was a terrible freedom, to grip the hilt of that dagger and - with all my hate of Seti behind my thrusts - plunge it into his body again and again. It warmed me to feel the blade sink into his vulnerable flesh, that body that had taken so much, that had demanded so much of my own body without remorse. I loved seeing his pain. Now he knew how I loathed him and now he suffered as I had suffered throughout the years of being his property.  
  
I am no murderess. I have not the heart or the nature of a murderess. Had we been forced to silence anyone other than Seti, I would have regretted it. My hatred flared and exploded when necessity demanded it to and then it was gone. As much as I would have done anything to protect my love, I believe I had only that one crime within me. Of course, that was then. Things are different now.  
  
For Imhotep, for my beloved, I would have thrust that dagger into my own flesh a thousand times, if it would secure his safety. However, only the one time was necessary and darkness claimed me.  
  
It should have ended there. It was over and my life was finished. But my soul longed to return. I had been filled with such life and hope for the future during my time with Imhotep, I only wanted to hold on to it. I wanted to live. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to die and old woman, lying in his warm arms, gazing at his face. I did not want it to be over like that. I wanted him to bring me back so we could have all that had been denied to us.  
  
But, as innocent a desire as it seemed, it was poison. Venom is treacherous. And it seeped into my beloved when he tried to bring me back to him, it brought him foul luck and a dreadful fate. I have not enough tears within my body to mourn all that he suffered and was cursed to become after thousands of years of torment, all for the sake of his love for me.  
  
And yet, he returned me to the world, gave me life again in a new body. I had little time to delight in being alive, to grieve what he had sacrificed of his humanity for my sake or to question what was happening because of the quest the keeper of this body had set him on. To claim the Army of Anubis and to rule the world. I was so deliriously, boundlessly happy just to be with him once more after so much time alone and longing, that I would have gone anywhere and done anything. But I could not heal him. I could not take back wrongs and the agony, not with all the love in my heart. I could console him but I could not help him.  
  
I am also not as I was. No matter how I try, I cannot feel comfortable within this body, sharing the memories, feelings and instincts of this woman I now inhabit and possess. She is so unlike me in her ways and habits, I can barely stand it, the instincts that rush over me suddenly, to act as she would act. I was full of fire and hate in my flaws but she is full of ice and cruelty. I feel out of my element getting used to her. She does things with cold contempt and she has a cowardly nature. Her strongest instinct is of self-preservation and sometimes the urge to escape is overpowering and so stifling, it is as though my veins are bursting beneath my skin.  
  
I realised this when I murdered Neferiti-reborn. One clean strike and it was over and I retreated and felt nothing, no sympathy, no remorse, not even delight. I was cold. It was not I. It was not something of which I was capable. I could kill, yes, but not in such cold blood.  
  
And why did I do it? Even in my first life, I did not hate Neferiti. I resented her and envied her but I did not wish her dead. I had killed a defenceless woman without a second thought and I had torn apart two lovers, something I thought I could never do after what my beloved and I endured. And yet, she was dead by my hand.  
  
The answer was simpler than I thought: she was troublesome and it was an easy task. That was why I did it. That was the instinct that possessed me. But I am certain it is not of my own spirit. That is why I am so torn with having to live on, surviving to brutal venom of this body and its needs. There are times when the line fades, and I am uncertain of who I am. Am I Anck-su-namun or Meela? Her presence and influence is so strong, I can feel it staining my spirit. I hate her.  
  
And so the teeth of that asp we had both been carrying with us, within our solitary but joined hearts sunk in deeply and its venom began to steal our strength. He persevered and I followed, but I was weaker than I had been, I was becoming weary and pained by what we had both become. We had both been changed. Our love remained, as strong as ever, but we could not reach it as easily.  
  
That is what poison is, my friend. That is what it does, it corrupts. It taints that which is pure. It ruins all that keeps people from despair. That is what true poison is. But I plan to defeat it, I plan to end it now.  
  
The slate must be clean. I understand now that sometimes it is necessary to remove an infected arm to save the remainder of the body. I am so full of poison and evil deeds, I can bear it no more. This soul is weary, it should have been fully reborn so very long ago. There is no more good that can be done in this incarnation, only bad. Sometimes, what is old and broken should be thrown away.  
  
I will do the same for my love, my sweet Imhotep. If we both die as mortals here, then all this poison will be finished and we can be reborn without these taints. Then perhaps we can know true happiness without guilt. Perhaps I must now make a sacrifice out of duty instead of selfishness.  
  
I will leave him. It will be the most terrible and difficult labour I have ever performed but it must be done. Together, we have triumphed but the undying venom has survived with us. Separate, we will both fail and die. I know it. I know I risk everything; that he will think me a traitor of our ancient love and I will wound him more deeply and fiercely than anything. But I must do it. I pray to the gods that I am doing the correct thing. If we both die here, our souls may gain some measure of peace and redemption. I must be strong. I must do it for him. So that he does not have to suffer in this incarnation any longer.  
  
I must not care what he will think. I will find him in the afterlife and I will weep and explain and implore and show him how I love him. I will hold him and never let go. I must abandon him here, not out of cowardice but out of love. His love has made me stronger and it will make me strong enough to perform this final act. Then perhaps we will know happiness. If I am wrong and we are condemned, then we are condemned together. If his soul must be devoured and destroyed, then it will be destroyed at the side of my own soul. We shall be saved or ended together. There is nothing more for us in this life, therefore I must act. I must save his soul and end his torment.  
  
He and the husband of Neferiti-reborn have fallen. Now is my time to leave. Yet, I am frozen to the spot. I lack the courage to leave him. My heart swells desperately and my spirit cries out to him. Every fibre of my being demands that I run to him, that I rescue him. It is only by sheer stubbornness of will that keeps me barely still. I must stop myself from running to him, I must be strong! For him, for him, I plead with myself. I am afraid. I am afraid that I cannot do it. I am afraid that I will give in, lose my iron-resolve and run to him, like my heart yearns to.  
  
Coward! I am such a low coward for thinking such thoughts! I must not save him! I must do this for the safety of our spirits! Yet I want to, yet I want to! To pull him back would be the act of a coward, I know. But I still have not the strength to run from him. I cannot turn away. I try to force back tears. I must be strong. I must be brave. I am his princess, his love. My will and heart is stronger than the poison.  
  
My soul cries out to him.  
  
Forgive me, my love.  
  
I fling all the power and fierce force of my willpower, inner-strength and love into my feet and legs. Every part of my courage, every scrap of dignity, every fragment of nobility. All that defines me and me heart is forced down into my limbs. All that I am, I push down to force myself to not surrender to that weakness. Out of love for him, I must run to him but out of a greater love for him, I must run away from him.  
  
I succeed. My legs move away. I do not stop. I keep pushing myself forward, pushing myself further away from my seeming-treachery. It does not get easier as I go along. I want to stop, I want to fall to the ground and weep and die but I keep pushing myself forward. I will never stop. I will run until I am dead.  
  
But I have won. I have triumphed over weakness and I have sucked the poison from our veins. I saw a serpent threaten my beloved and now I have destroyed it. I am happy. I have found strength and love has given me the ability to strike back at the asp with fangs of my own. It is all I can want. I hope I have done the right thing. I love him so much and I have proven it in the best way I can, by giving us both redemption. For this, perhaps we will be reunited in another life.  
  
I implore to the gods that I will die soon. I beg that if I have done a noble thing, that if I have acted out of true love, that I will be spared from a moment longer without him. The sands have run red and my soul has been cast adrift with the dunes. But I am free. I know now that I can rise above and beyond all. I will meet him again, I know.  
  
My soul cries out to him once more.  
  
Imhotep, my heart is yours.  
  
The ground splinters apart with a roar and I am at peace. I know the gods have answered. I have journeyed long to reach them. I fall into that writhing wave of blackness but my soul is full of light. The flesh gives out a standard scream. I recognise it not. I am at peace.  
  
For I am done.  
  
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THE END  
  
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End file.
